A Desired Regimen
by N3GatorFan
Summary: Neither Henry nor Jo had expected this trip to Paris, and neither of them expected the trip to go the way that it has. What does happen, though, brings them closer together. Set a year after 1x22.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note** : The basic outline of the story has been in my head since _Forever_ creator Matt Miller's tweet about Henry and Jo getting lost in Paris together. A part of this came into my head at four in the morning on Valentine's Day while I was trying to go back to sleep. I hope that you will enjoy the story.

* * *

 **Chapter 1**

Jo took a few deep breaths as she watched the couple inspect their car for any signs of damage and for any indications as to what had caused the accident. Several voices from a growing crowd shouted what sounded like questions, instructions, and reassurances, yet she couldn't tell. Henry, however, would—.

She closed her eyes and fought the nausea in her stomach and the tears in her eyes. The sickening sounds of screeching tires and an audible thud rang in her ears. She was in an unfamiliar city in an unfamiliar country with no knowledge of the language. And the person who knew them had just died and vanished before her eyes.

 _Breathe, Martinez! He said that this would happen. You know of five deaths—three during the week that you met him—in the last two years, and he's mentioned that there were two more in that time. He's okay, but you need to get to him now_.

That was the problem. She wasn't sure if he was alive. Henry had not died once in the year since Adam had killed him with the flintlock pistol used in his first death. She couldn't tell if he was afraid of not coming back if he died again or if he didn't want her to see one of his deaths in spite of her knowledge of his secret. In any case, he had been uncharacteristically cautious when it came to his safety. That is, until today.

She felt a vague tap on her shoulder. Half-expecting to see Henry behind her—and fully clothed—she slowly turned toward the source. Her heart sank when she noticed a well-dressed, dark-haired woman in her mid-20s instead of her ME.

" _Perdon, mademoiselle. Est-ce que vous allez bien?_ "

The woman's words slowly began to register in Jo's mind. Although two of the words vaguely sounded like something that Henry had used in greeting people, she didn't recognize them. The concerned woman appeared to be asking her if she was okay. Jo wished that she had asked Henry to teach her a few phrases during the flight to Paris. After she returned home—or on the return flight back to New York's LaGuardia Airport—she would learn them.

In the meantime, though, she couldn't respond. "I'm sorry. I don't understand what you are saying." She smiled and hoped that the other woman would interpret it as a sign that she was fine.

The young woman nodded and left Jo to herself. She blinked and shook her head. Everything felt as though the accident was just a dream. She was back in New York waking up in her bed, and Henry and Abe were already starting their day in the antiques shop they called home. If she woke up now, everything would be fine, and she could end this nightmare.

A glint of gold on the ground convinced her that she wasn't dreaming, that this was real. She gently picked up Henry's pocket watch, the only physical evidence that he was standing just behind her when the accident happened, and fondly fingered it. He had tackled her to get her out of the way of oncoming traffic, just like she had tackled him once before when he had tried to stop Kevin Crachiolla from getting away. When she could find him, the first thing that she would do was to find a way to thank him for saving her life.

Jo looked over at the motorists and the crowd on their phones, presumably calling the police. As a member of the law enforcement community, she knew that she should stay at the scene so her colleagues could take her statement and so the paramedics could treat any injuries that she might have sustained. Yet, she couldn't explain this to anyone without sounding like she was insane. She needed to get out of here—now.

She carefully slipped his watch into the pocket where she kept her cell phone. She pushed herself to her feet and looked around. She found a street leading away from both the museum that they had exited moments before and the crowds that could identify her at the scene and took off for it as calmly as she could.

She walked until she found a quiet alley. She turned into it and leaned back against the wall of one of the buildings. She checked herself for any injuries. She sighed when she looked at her legs and noticed blood and skin showing through two huge holes in her pants. From what she could see, it appeared as though she had slid on the sidewalk after Henry had tackled her.

She studied her wounds. She had enough scraped knees and cuts in her childhood to know that the cuts on her hands and knees looked worse than they were. She quickly ripped the legs off her pants, rubbed the blood off her legs, and fashioned the torn fabric into a pair of makeshift bandages, something that he had taught her during a recent case. Once she returned to the hotel, she would clean her wounds then.

She closed her eyes. If Henry made it back to the hotel—.

First, she needed to find him. Maybe she should call Abe. He might have an idea of where she could find his father.

She reached into her pocket. The moment her hand brushed Henry's watch, she withdrew her hand. Then again, maybe not. It would be difficult for Abe to help her when he was an ocean and two rivers away.

She peeked out of her hiding place and looked toward the Eiffel Tower. More details about their preparations found their way through the fog of her mind. Fortunately, she had asked Henry about where he had returned to life before they had left New York. He had mentioned one place along the Seine, a spot near the Hippodrome de Longchamp in the Bois de Boulogne. He should be there. If not…

She swallowed and fought back tears. She shouldn't think of that now. He should be alive, and he would in danger of getting his wet, naked, immortal butt arrested again.

She took a couple of additional deep breaths to calm herself and stepped out of the alley. As a car moved toward her, she immediately lifted her arm and yelled, "Taxi!" She smiled as the cab slowed to a stop. It was just like home.

She quickly checked to see if the driver was Adam. Satisfied that the man wasn't the psychopathic immortal stalker who had resumed his torment of Henry months earlier, she slid into the car.

"Where to, miss?"

She opened and closed her mouth several times. She hadn't expected to hear a French-accented English speaker.

After a moment, she remembered her destination. Abe had insisted on looking up the site of Henry's awakenings in Paris online, and he had surprised his father with aerial photography of the area. "Yacht Moteur Club de France."

The man looked at her in the rearview mirror and raised his eyebrows.

She owed him an explanation, no matter how flimsy it sounded. "I'm meeting a friend there."

She breathed a sigh of relief when it looked as though he believed her. In a way, it _was_ the truth. She was just meeting Henry in a place across the street from it.

As they drove off, Jo looked out of her window at the passing city. She began to shake from the rush of adrenaline that was still coursing through her body, but she resisted the temptation to react to it for fear of raising her driver's suspicions. She inhaled to calm herself. Hopefully, Henry was alive and that she would find him soon. If not… She didn't want to think about it.

* * *

As she walked through the woods, she kept an eye out for Henry. To her dismay, he was nowhere in sight. She heaved a frustrated sigh. In spite of his assertion that he would be here if he died during their trip, it seemed as though she might not ever find him.

She found a tree and leaned back against it. She pulled off a shoe and began to massage her foot. Her dress shoes were not made for hiking through the woods. When she got back to the hotel, she was soaking her feet in some warm water.

She sighed again. This was _not_ what she and Henry had thought about when they had discussed going to Paris. They had been talking about a romantic trip—getting lost, walking the streets until they were too weak to walk anymore, ordering some wine and some food at a nearby café, and doing it again once they finished their meal. As he described his "regimen", she found herself daydreaming about doing everything that he was saying with him—in spite of the fact that she was dating someone else at the time. He… Well, it was the first time that she had seen a dreamy look cross Henry Morgan's face without him reminiscing about something from his past. It had been almost as if he had wanted to take her to Paris himself.

Yet, the first opportunity that they had to come to the City of Lights was for a case. Construction workers working on the renovation of one of the National Museum's wings had found one of the Louvre's staff members dead under a pile of material. Since the murder had occurred in New York, Lt. Reece had insisted that Jo should go to the city and conduct a part of the investigation with her Parisian counterparts. To Mike's usual disappointment and Lucas' fanboying joy, Lieu had ordered that Henry should accompany her because of his knowledge of art, French, and French culture. Over the past few days, they had been so busy with the case that they barely had time to eat and sleep—let alone to have some time to themselves so that they could sightsee.

That was until this morning. Yesterday evening, Yves Desloges, the detective whom they were working with, had urged them to take the day off, and she reassured them that she would contact them if she found another lead in the case. Henry realized that a café that he had frequented in the 1920s—and where he had seen Ernest Hemingway with his girlfriend—was miraculously still open and was a few blocks from the hotel. Once they ate breakfast there, they discussed exploring a nearby museum and stopping at a local market to pick up some bread, cheese, fruit, and wine for a picnic lunch in one of the city parks.

The meal and the trip to the museum were enjoyable, but Jo had found herself wishing that they were doing what Henry had described last year instead of staying close to their hotel because of work. One glance at him, and she could tell that he had been thinking the same thing.

She fought back her tears. She would give anything to hear his voice again. To see him check his pocket watch again. To spend another moment listening to his long stories and his theories. Even to see his nose wrinkle in disgust at the sight of one of her gyros and to roll her eyes when he refused to stay put. If only she had paid more attention to the traffic than to her daydreams of redoing the trip…

"Jo?"

She jumped at the almost quiet, surprised voice behind her and reflexively swung at its source. A startled, loud "ouch" snapped her out of her trance as her hand made contact with rough skin. She took a couple of deep breaths and finally looked up to discover who had called her name.

In front of her was one very stunned and slightly sheepish Dr. Henry Morgan, rubbing his scar with one hand and keeping his modesty intact with the other. His eyes met hers. He attempted a smile, but it refused to come.

She didn't know what she was supposed to feel. She was angry that he had decided to risk exposure to save her life. She was upset that he had left her alone in the middle of the city. Yet, she was flabbergasted, overjoyed, and relieved to see that he had survived this death, that he was indeed immortal, and that he was still with her.

His still wet skin caught her attention. How did he make it here without attracting the attention of the people at the yacht club, the drivers on the nearby road, or anyone who had wandered to his hiding place after the horserace that she could hear drifting through the woods?

The warm spring midday sun shone in her eyes. The Bois de Boulogne was over twice the size of Central Park, yet it was as well patrolled as its sister park in New York. Based on Henry's stories about previous awakenings here…

She lowered her voice to keep anyone from overhearing them. "Do you want me to go back to the hotel to get you some clothes?" _What am I saying?! Of course, he needs clothes!_

He gave her a small, lopsided smile. "I think that I'll be safe here until you return. If you can't find me…"

She nodded. He didn't have to be naked to be arrested for indecent exposure. During their last case, he had stripped off his shirt, waistcoat, and coat and had begun to remove his shoes to save a drowning victim when a couple of unis approached him. If she and Mike hadn't been standing beside him and insisted on letting him rescue their victim, he would have been arrested again in spite of wearing pants.

Another taxi ride later, she entered their room. She smiled as she saw his pillow and his folded covers sitting on the foot of the bed. She had suggested that they should flip a coin for the bed, but he had insisted that he was comfortable on the floor. She couldn't argue with his decision. After all, he had slept in jail cells, in open fields, in military vehicles, and—she shuttered to think about it—shackled to a wall in the asylums. If he wanted her to take the bed, she was happy to grant his wish.

She stopped for a moment at his "bed" between the door and her bed. When she had returned from the bathroom, she had noticed him sleeping peacefully with the blanket tucked under his arms. The long hours working on the case, the similarities between their victim's death and one of his more violent ones, and his worries about Abe while they were gone were exhausting him, and she wasn't sure how much longer it would be before the emotional stress associated with all three would take its toll on him. She didn't know what had relaxed him last night, but she was glad for it. Wanting him to enjoy a few extra minutes of sleep, she had eased into their closet and changed before waking him up.

She headed to the closet, carefully removed one of his shirts and pair of pants from the hangers, and set them on the bed. She wrangled her carry-on bag out from between the wall and his suitcase, quickly removed her unpacked item, and set them on the desk across from their beds. She folded his suit before packing it in the bag.

She went back and opened his suitcase. She chuckled as she removed his extra shoes and a pair of socks. When they had gone through the security checkpoint, people had shot him curious looks after seeing his old-fashioned suitcase—and were shocked when he and his luggage had cleared the checkpoint in record time. She quickly closed the case and added his socks and shoes to the bag.

Her feet began to smart again. To relieve the pain, she sat down between his bedding and her bag. She pulled out his pocket watch and affectionately fingered it. When they had met two years ago, she had never dreamed that the "weirdest, creepiest, most unusual person I've ever met" would become her partner and friend. Her drinking buddy. The person whose shoulder she could cry on when the grief from losing Sean threatened to overwhelm her. The guy who she wanted to get lost in Paris with. Someone she deeply cared about—so deeply that the thought of losing him forever, even though she knew that he would come back to her, had pained her.

She shook her head in amazement. How did that happen?

The times in which she had returned his watch came back and reminded her of what she still needed to do. She pocketed the timepiece and slipped her carry-on's handle onto her shoulder. She hoped that their fellow colleagues wouldn't find Henry in his current condition. If so, she was about to find out how to bail him out of jail when she didn't speak the language.

* * *

They returned to the hotel room and closed the door. Jo dropped her bag on the closet floor next to his suitcase. Once she stepped into the main room, she crossed her arms and watched Henry as he finished his coffee. Admittedly, his taking her hand to convince the unis that they were having a romantic tryst—his words, not hers—had to be the smoothest and the most surprising act of deception that he had ever pulled.

So, why was her heart still fluttering whenever she thought about it?

She took a step toward him. Just as she was about to ask him how he was doing, a stinging sensation caused her to stop in mid-step. She hissed in pain. She was so concerned about him that she had forgotten about the cuts on her knees.

"Jo, what is it?" Henry set his coffee cup down on the desk and hurried over to her. He gently wrapped one of her arms around his neck and his other arm around her waist before guiding her to the edge of the bed.

She hissed again as she lowered herself onto the foot. She had scraped knees before. How could they cause so much pain now?

Henry pulled the desk chair toward her and sat down. As he gently removed her shoes, she unexpectedly lost all coherent thought. Fascinated by his movements, she silently watched him remove her socks and then her bandages.

"It looks as though I've lost a suit and you've lost a pair of pants during today's adventure."

She found herself unable to respond. If anything, her mind was on the verge of daydreaming.

He slightly lifted her knee to the light and examined it. "The amount of blood loss is minimal. The laceration is deep but not deep enough to require stitches. There is debris in the wound…"

She barely noticed him standing. His mutterings, honed by 150 years of experience as a practicing doctor, quickly prompted her to dream of them walking in Paris again.

Just as they sat down in a café, she felt a sudden pain which coursed through her body and roused her from the dream. She closed her eyes and dug her fingers into the edge of the bed to keep from screaming.

When she dared to open her eyes again, she saw Henry attempting to gently wash her cuts with a warm, wet wash cloth. She glanced down at the bed and saw a tray with first-aid supplies on it.

 _Where did that come from? What on Earth had come over me to keep me from noticing that?_

"How do you do that?" The second the words left her mouth, she realized that she had just spoken her thoughts.

He stopped his cleaning, looked her in the eye, and sighed. "In some cases, the emotional trauma following a death lasts far longer than it does in others. My last one before today's death had been especially difficult on me. Until today, I didn't know whether I could come back again."

He glanced down as though he was trying to decide something. Finally, he raised his eyes. "I guess that is why Abigail and Abe had been concerned about my deaths over the years. That they feared that death would one day take me as I know that it would come for them." He mirthlessly chuckled. "It took me about 70 years to figure that out." He sat still for a moment before resuming his work.

She nodded as she remembered the times that he had volunteered to be shot instead of her—or even their suspect. "That hasn't stopped you before."

He looked at her and gave her a sad, lopsided smile. "My family and friends are too important to let fear stop me from protecting them."

She stared at him for a moment. She had never thought of his "lack of a self-preservation instinct" in that way before.

She felt herself starting to daydream again. She cocked her head and stared at him. "That's not what I meant, though."

"What did you mean?"

"I—." Her cheeks suddenly warmed. She couldn't tell him what she was thinking. It was too embarrassing to admit.

He looked into her eyes. He had the same expression that he had worn the second before Abe had interrupted them last year. The same look that was now convincing her that, even then, he had wanted to get lost in Paris with her.

He lowered his eyes and tended to her knee. As she grimaced, he peered into her eyes again. "I didn't mean for any of this to happen. I—."

She held up a hand. "If I wasn't so lost in thought…"

They looked at each other and chortled. There was nothing to forgive.

She shifted her weight to make herself more comfortable on the bed. "Thank you for saving my life."

He swallowed and quickly turned his attention back to his task.

She squeezed the edge of the bed as he finished cleaning her other cut and as he applied ointment on them and covered them with a pair of gauzes and some tape. She could almost see him doctor Abigail like this…if she had allowed him.

"Let me see your hands."

She obediently held them out and let him examine them. He washed the scrapes and applied ointment to them. A couple of moments later, he gave her some ibuprofen for the pain and a cup of water.

As he tidied his mess, he looked at her. "You must keep an eye…" He inhaled as though he couldn't believe what he was saying. "If you see any signs of infection, let me know, and I'll look at your wound." He gave her a puppy-dog eyed look. "It's the least that I could do."

She couldn't resist him. "I will."

Once he disposed his trash, he took one whiff under his arm. He blinked several times and wrinkled his nose in disgust. "I need a shower. Excuse me." He went into the closet, grabbed some clothes, and headed for the bathroom.

Jo bit her lower lip to keep herself from giggling. He was cute when he was disgusted.

She slowly moved to the head of the bed and sat down. The sound of running water erased any lingering doubts that this was a dream. Henry was alive, and she had just gone on her first fishing trip, as Abe had jokingly called his runs to the river or wherever Henry could find someone willing to loan him a cell phone to pick up his father

She looked out of the window and gazed at the Eiffel Tower. Since his answer to her question about his must-sees, she had dreamed about what they would do in the city. Yet, she had never thought about what would happen in the meantime.

Was this what the rest of the trip would be like? The heart-to-heart conversations? The care for each other? The tender touches that rendered her unable to do anything but react?

More importantly, was this what a relationship with him would be like?

She shook her head. She shouldn't be thinking about that. He was a _very_ good friend, and they were in the most romantic city in the world on business. She was letting her imagination run away with her.

Somehow, though, she wasn't convinced about that last thought.

"Nuts! I forgot my shirt!"

She smiled. "You know I have seen you shirtless before?!"

He opened the door and walked into the bedroom. She found herself breathless as she surveyed his mussed-up hair and his bare chest.

He solemnly stepped over to the bed and sat down where she was seated minutes earlier. He bowed his neck as though he was studying the comforter.

Sensing that something was wrong, she got up and joined him. "Henry, what is it?"

He slowly raised his head and turned to her. "From the moment that I had started to swim to shore, all I could think about was you. About us."

Her heart began to pound in her chest. She wasn't sure if she would like—or was ready for—what he would say next.

He inhaled. "About this time last year, I had told you that you were someone I deeply care about." He rubbed his tongue over his bottom lip. "I don't know how, but my care for you has grown deeper and stronger since that moment." He took another deep breath. "Almost losing you today has shown me that."

She lowered her head and bit her lower lip. Admittedly, the thought of losing him had opened her eyes to how much she cared for him.

She looked up again, and their eyes locked. The rest of the world and her concerns instantly vanished. The only thing that mattered was him.

His eyes continuously travelled from her own to her lips and back again. Sensing what he wanted to do, she waited breathlessly for it. She vaguely felt him turning so he could face her.

He looked at her lips one more time. Honestly, she was ready.

A loud ring pierced the air. They broke their gaze and sat silently for a moment as they tried to regain their bearings. Disappointment filled Jo as they looked at each other again. She wished that Henry had kissed her before they were interrupted— _again_.

The phone continued to ring. She reluctantly walked over to the hotel phone and picked it up. She pulled his watch out of her pocket and returned it to him as she listened to Yves relate some information to her.

As her Parisian counterpoint spoke, Jo felt her eyelids growing heavy. She rubbed her face, uncertain as to whether the fatigue from the day's events or the ibuprofen was making her sleepy.

Soon, she hung up the phone and sighed. She wasn't ready for this.

"Jo?"

She turned to Henry as he buttoned his shirt. He was already deducing what the conversation was about.

She struggled to keep her emotions in check. "Yves and her team have located our suspect. They're going to bring him in tonight. She wants us there for the interrogation tomorrow…"

He disappointedly nodded. He wasn't ready to return to New York yet either.

She blinked several times to keep her eyes open, but it was no use. She was growing more tired by the minute.

"Do you need some sleep?"

She looked up at him. "Would you mind?"

He grinned. "I remember someone imploring me to take a nap recently."

She smiled. She had asked him that yesterday afternoon while they were taking a lunch break. He stubbornly refused, insisting that he didn't need it.

As she climbed under the covers and closed her eyes, she thought about everything that had happened. They were good friends, but she no longer was satisfied by their relationship. She wanted something more. How did that happen?

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Originally, this had been planned as a one-shot. After seeing the way that the chapter ends, I began to think that the story would be better as a two-chapter one.

I have cut one knee the same way that Jo does here. That is how I know you can slide on a dry sidewalk.

Jo's race to get Henry some clothes is more urgent in Paris than it is in New York. According to a CNN story about the plans for a nudist beach in Paris, a charge of public nudity has a punishment of a $15,000 fine or a 1-year prison sentence. According to New York's Penal Code, Henry risks a 3-month sentence or a $500 fine if a prosecutor can prove that his naked walks are intentional. A regular indecent exposure charge carries a lesser punishment. A judge could sentence him to less than 15 days in jail, but Henry likely pays a fine of up to $250 every time he's arrested.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note** : I made a couple of mistakes in the last chapter. Yves should be Yvette! ***blushing at the thought of using a masculine name for a woman*** Also, _Perdon_ should have been _Pardonnez-moi_ (excuse me). Sorry! (Thank you, ForeverCloisJenry, for catching both of them!)

On a side note, while I was writing this, I realized that this will be a three-chapter story. You'll find out why soon.

* * *

 **Chapter 2**

Henry gazed at a sleeping Jo. What had he ever done to deserve her?

The day that they had met, she had found a frightened, lost, old soul who had preferred death to the prospects of eternal loneliness and continual betrayal. She slowly calmed his fears and gave him every reason to trust her. She reminded him what it was like to bring a smile to someone's face, to provide and receive comfort and support, and to have a trusted friend. She saw through the lies that he had deemed necessary for his survival, and her belief that he was a better man and her persistence in learning more about him finally convinced him to drop his defenses and to let her see his true self. Her acceptance of his condition led not to the betrayal and loneliness that he had feared but to a deepened, closer, and cherished relationship—and to his surprising desire to live life once again.

At the same time, his own care for her began to grow. It had started with his sincere condolences for her own personal loss, one that should not have occurred in such a young marriage. Before he knew it, he had found himself enjoying her company, finding ways to ease the pains that her own difficult life had brought, and longing to give her a small sense of happiness and pleasure each day. He had almost lost her several times over the past two years—most recently today—and, each time, he had felt a sense of surprise and then relief when he had learned that his worst fears weren't realized. Instead of driving him away from her, each incident prompted him to express how much she meant to him before it was too late.

Today, though, that expression was different. Today, it seemed as though he had given his heart—his whole heart—to her.

He happily leaned back against the desk and instantly bumped his head on the hotel's phone. Running his hand over the injured spot, he shot a look at the offensive object. Hopefully, the sound of the receiver hitting the phone's base wouldn't disturb Jo's sleep. The last time the phone interrupted something…

He rubbed his face as he turned back around to face the desk. What was he thinking? He had never been disappointed when a call about a lead had interrupted them before.

Then again, he had never let his thoughts of touring a city with someone, especially with Jo, distract him during a case. He had never held her hand for any other reason other than in comfort. As a physician, he had never stopped himself in mid-sentence and offered a re-examination of an injury. He had hasten out of the bathroom shirtless with a woman in the other room only once before, and that was throughout the duration of his and Abigail's lives together. And he most assuredly had _never_ tried to kiss Jo before.

He took a deep breath to maintain his composure. None of this was like him. What was happening to him?

He eased himself off the floor and began to pace. There must be some explanation for his irrational behavior. The city had always projected a romantic ambience for those who had traveled to it, and he was falling under its influence for the first time in his life. He was still affected by his jumbled emotions following his latest death, and every action connected to his behavior was at the surface. He—.

He stopped in mid-step and noticed his watch lying next to her cell phone on the end table. He had _never_ done that before. In the few times that Abigail had handed him his watch while he was changing, he had _always_ slipped it into his pocket before grabbing his shirt.

As a matter of fact, the only time in which he had placed anything of his next to something of Jo's was when he hung his coat next to hers during her visits to the shop.

He walked over to the desk and placed his hands on it. It was becoming more obvious that his recent conduct wasn't something new. How long had this been going on?

" _You're welcomed to join us. Lucas here could get you a coffee."_

" _I wasn't hitting on you, Detective."_

"… _you're quite hot."_

" _Looks don't go very far in my chosen profession. It's more of a liability actually."_

" _I appreciate the efforts to conceal them, but just so you know, it's not working."_

" _There is someone out there for all those breakfasts and dinners."_

" _Why don't you come up for dinner?"_

" _Um..."_

" _I insist."_

" _I played Eliza Doolittle in my grade school production of_ My Fair Lady _."_

" _You must have been charming."_

" _What?"_

" _Nothing. I'm just used to you kicking down doors and shooting perpetrators."_

" _You brought a gun on a date?"_

" _You look different. Your clothes…"_

" _Oh, yeah. I didn't have time to go home and change."_

" _Well, it looks nice."_

"… _But know that this regimen works best only if done with someone you find very special."_

" _I didn't want to go to Paris with Isaac."_

" _Why?"_

"… _I was afraid I made things a little uncomfortable the other night when I showed up."_

" _It would take a lot more than that to make me uncomfortable."_

" _What am I to you?"_

" _You're my friend, my partner, and someone I care very deeply about."_

" _All this would be so much easier if I didn't…._

" _You're emoting, Henry. Continue."_

" _Whatever feelings I have for Jo…"_

He looked at his reflection in the mirror. No man who merely cared about a female friend would make those types of comments or observations. Then again, he would never hope to see her during his day, feel a thrill every time that he saw her, or be disappointed and longed for her presence every time he didn't. He would never be willing to do anything—even lay down his life, change it, or exchange their fates if she was facing her mortality—for her. He would never blame himself if something were to happen to her, and he would never experience a joyous relief when he saw that she was okay. He would never fall asleep while ecstatically entertaining the idea of spending the entire day with her. And he most assuredly would never attempt to physically demonstrate his affection for her.

Henry looked over the image of his shoulder at Jo's reflection. He knew exactly what was going on, and it had been over thirty years since he had last felt this way.

His care for Jo hadn't been growing deeper and stronger over the past two years.

His _love_ for her had.

He sharply inhaled at the revelation. He loved her.

He turned his head toward the window and gazed at the Eiffel Tower. Fortunately, love didn't know geographical boundaries. He had fallen in love with her in New York, and, if she felt the same way, they would continue their relationship there. If he had his way, they would return to Paris one day, but, as long as they were together in the same city—any city, anywhere—he would be content.

He looked back in the mirror. He just didn't know how she felt about it. Ever since he had found her in the park, she had given several indications that she was a more romantic relationship with him. Yet, he wasn't completely sure if that was the case.

He couldn't do anything about it now, though; he would have to discuss it with her later. In the meantime, Jo hadn't eaten since breakfast. Once she woke up, she might want something to eat.

At that moment, his stomach growled. He wasn't very hungry following the day's events, yet it appeared that he might need some nourishment as well. Maybe getting some food would help him gain some perspective into Jo's own feelings for him and into the status of their relationship.

He walked over to the end table and gently picked up his watch to check the time. Most of the farmers markets were closed already, and those that weren't would close in the next half hour. He, however, had seen a supermarket a few blocks from their hotel which was, surprisingly, still open when their taxi had driven by it. It should have everything that he needed for lunch.

He looked at the time again. On second thought, he should purchase enough food for dinner as well. Jo might not be willing to leave the hotel room for the rest of the day. If that were the case, they wouldn't be able to order room service since the kitchen staff had the day off.

After slipping his watch into his pocket, he watched her for a moment. The memory of seeing him die could wake her up and prevent her from falling asleep again. If she noticed that he was gone once more…

He turned back to the table and quickly jotted a note detailing his whereabouts on the notepad beside the phone. He stole through the room, got his coat out of the closet, and headed to the door. He could walk the short distance between the two locations, but he was hailing a taxi. It would be much safer than walking the streets today.

As he started to leave their room, he glanced back at her one last time and smiled. It was difficult to believe that, after all that they had been through over the past two years, he had fallen in love with his friend and partner. Yet, he had, and he couldn't be happier.

* * *

Henry quietly cracked the door open and eased into the room. He set the bags on the desk, pulled out their contents, and put the cold items into the refrigerator. He stepped over to the coffee set, found everything that he needed, and placed them next to the remaining groceries.

A moment later, he looked in the mirror and noticed that Jo was still asleep. He wasn't sure what was creating it, but he was glad that she was finally getting some much-needed rest.

He headed to the closet and hung his coat on a hanger. Curious about her need to massage her foot while they were in the woods, he squatted to look at her shoes. As he examined the soles, his heart leapt into his throat. The bottoms were severely cracked as a result of her recent hike. Perhaps the late time was a benefit. With two cuts on her knees and a pair of sore feet, she was in no condition to explore any more of the city today. Furthermore, she would need to rest her feet if she wanted to be relatively pain-free during their interview with their suspect and their return trip to New York tomorrow.

He stood and walked over to her. As he carefully set his watch on the end table, he stole another glance at her. For a second, he swore that he saw a small smile on her face. He inhaled in amazement. This was the first time that he had ever seen her sleeping this peacefully. Somehow, he suspected that he might have a role in it.

A moment later, Jo's eyes flutter open. "Henry?" Her voice was still heavy with sleep.

"How are you feeling?" Throughout his short trip, he was worried about her.

She smiled as she started to sit up. "I think that this is the first time that I've slept well since we got here."

She hissed as she flexed her knees. "I've forgotten about them."

She ran a hand through her hair. Unsatisfied with the way that it felt, she combed it with her fingers.

He inhaled. She didn't need to do that. He had seen her with tousled hair before, and she still looked like the embodiment of Aphrodite.

He momentarily turned his head so he could think. "While you were sleeping, I went to the supermarket near the hotel for some food."

She narrowed her eyes in confusion. "I thought that you've said that stores were generally closed on Sundays."

He shook his head. "I asked the proprietor about it. The laws have changed since I've last been here. Now, some stores are permitted to operate on Sunday mornings, and those in the tourist districts can remain open all day if they choose."

"It's a good thing Lt. Reece had booked us a hotel room in a tourist district."

He gave her a curious look. He had felt that they could have generated their leads if they had stayed near the Louvre staff member's residence. Yet, he had never considered the lieutenant's desire for familiarity to be beneficial on the weekend.

Jo groaned as she eased off the bed. As she brushed past him, she smiled. "What did you get?"

"I picked up the items for our picnic lunch and enough food for dinner." On second thought, perhaps he should have bought something else for lunch.

She chuckled as she hobbled to the bathroom door. "You know, it's funny. After what had happened, I still like the idea of a picnic."

Noticing the source of her inflammation, Henry pressed his lips together. She needed more relief from her foot pain than what a few hours of rest could provide her.

Knowing what he could do, he called out to her as she closed the bathroom door, "I'll be right back!"

"Okay."

He stepped out of the room and looked down the hallway. He spied a housekeeping cart a few doors down. A woman walked out of the room. She grumbled in French about the previous guests' mess as she placed her cleaning supplies onto the cart.

He walked over to her and hoped that she would be receptive to his request. " _Pardonnez-moi_."

She spun around. " _Oui_?"

"May I have another plastic bag for our ice bucket? My friend—."

"Your girlfriend?"

His mouth dropped open. He had no idea how to respond.

She chuckled and handed him a couple of bags. "Out of all of the people whom I have seen staying here this month, you and she are the only ones who look like you're in love with each other. Enjoy your night."

Unwilling to correct her assumption about the reason for their trip, he accepted the bags and thanked her. He hurried down the hallway, filled one with ice, and tied a knot in the top.

When he returned to his and Jo's room, he noticed something shiny lying on the ground next to the door. He stifled a chuckle as he picked it up and peered down the hallway. The housekeeper had left them with more bags for their ice.

He reentered the room and laid the extra bags on the desk. He sighed the moment that he saw Jo on the bed rubbing her feet. He ducked into the bathroom to retrieve a clean towel. He wrapped it around the makeshift ice pack, sat down on the bed, and started to lay it against her feet.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm putting an ice pack on your feet to alleviate the inflammation in them." After he molded the pack around her soles, she sighed in relief and looked at him in gratitude. He quickly propped his bedding against the bag both to insulate it and to keep it from falling onto the bed.

Satisfied with his work, he went to the refrigerator and desk. He returned first with the napkins and then the baguettes. She opened her mouth to protest, but nothing came out. Her expression softened as she permitted him to serve her the meat and the cheese.

He then took the small basket of strawberries to the sink. As he started to wash them, he realized what he had done. Out of all of the seasonal fruit on the shelves, he _had_ to pick out strawberries. He had given no thought to the berry's symbolism or use when he had seen them. He shrugged his shoulders. Perhaps Jo wouldn't notice his subconscious slip if she didn't reciprocate his feelings for her.

Jo's laugh filled the air. "Sliced ham?"

"Foie gras was the only spread that I could find on the shelves. I knew that you don't care for it, so I assumed that you would enjoy ham instead." She hated the taste of the pate when she had tried it for lunch earlier last week.

"I thought that you would get foie gras for yourself."

He swallowed to summon some courage as he turned back to her with their dessert. During that meal, he had eaten it for the first time in ninety years, but he had quickly discovered that everything about the spread was more useful knowledge than desired delicacy now.

She inhaled as she perceived that it was a part of his last meal before the death which their case had reminded him of. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know."

"It was a long time ago." He gave her what he had hoped to be a reassuring smile. He hadn't told her everything about it because he didn't want to burden her with the list of deaths which Abe had indexed and cross-referenced in his mind.

Henry's memory of that insight coaxed a chuckle from him.

"What?"

He placed the berries on the bed. "My son thinks my stories are boring." He was still amazed at the freedom to refer to Abe as his son when talking to someone once again.

Jo's eyes widened for a moment before he turned to get their wine. "Not the ones you've been telling me."

"True." Jo's visits to the shop had been inspiring him to tell her more stories from his life. Apparently, several had piqued Abe's interest, and he had eagerly eavesdropped on the ones he had never heard before. The only one to draw any commentary from the younger Morgan was the story of Henry's decision to leave the medical field, and Abe had only expressed his lack of knowledge about the real reason he had missed Don Larsen's perfect World Series game.

Henry saw her smile in the mirror. "He's not the only one who's been enjoying them."

As he picked the coffee cups and the wine, he could feel her eyes scrutinizing him. He looked back in the mirror. She slowly stroked her neck and briefly averted her gaze in an ill-planned attempt to prove that she was regarding something else. He glanced down and smiled before turning to her. Her evaluation of his physical appearance was quite flattering.

When she noticed the cups, her eyes widened again. "What? No glasses?"

He softly chuckled as he set the objects in his hands on the desk and joined her on the bed. "Given the circumstances, I think that we can do without them and without proper picnic etiquette."

Smiling, she surveyed the spread before her. "So, essentially, we're having ham and cheese sandwiches, strawberries, and wine for lunch. Seems decadent." She took a baguette, a slice of ham, and a piece of cheese and placed it on her napkin. "Let me know when you want to go to Lt. Reece's office to justify our travel expenses. I want to see the look on her face when she sees what the NYPD is paying for today."

"I'll try, although she might request my presence while you and Hanson are investigating a lead."

He watched her mirror him as he tore off bites of the individual foods and layered them in his hand. In the short time that she had been here, she had effortlessly adjusted to life in a different country. Perhaps…

Jo soberly looked him in the eye. "How are you doing? It's been a rough case for you."

He gave her a small smile. During the first couple of nights, his observations about the case, his concerns about his condition and about Abe and her, and his memories had melded together to form nightmares. He roused from them and noticed her at his side. Her gentle touch of his shoulder had soothed him so completely that he had drifted back to sleep before he could respond to her question about his well-being.

"I'm doing better now." He remembered his own need to comfort her the following night when a lead had reminded her of the events leading to his then-latest death and of Sean's death. "How about you?"

She nodded her head. "I'm feeling much better."

They ate in silence for a couple of minutes. She shifted herself so she could face him better. "What made you think of a romantic tryst earlier today? Have you used it as an excuse before?"

He stared at her and then briefly glanced down at their food. "This was my first time using it."

She leaned forward. "You've never used it with Abigail?"

He shook his head. "She always threw a blanket over me and hurried me to our car when she knew of my deaths. Prior to that, no one had met me after my awakenings. And, during my courtships, I had never attempted a real one."

She smiled. "I'm your first interrupted romantic tryst."

He studied Jo. The act of deception and his maintained hold of her hand after they had left the officers were so rash that he hadn't considered her feelings about the matter.

"Did I make you feel comfortable?" He swallowed. It had been decades since he had been this nervous.

She gazed into his eyes. "Actually, no. It was a very pleasant surprise."

He relaxed and tore off another bite of baguette. He wasn't expecting that response.

Her continued smile at the memory stopped any doubts from surfacing. She had enjoyed it.

He reached up and rubbed his stubble. Maybe he should have shaved last night. His slight beard was becoming quite unbearable.

His hand touched her leg. Remembering the reason for their indoor picnic, he quickly checked the time. He then removed the ice pack from Jo's feet and took it to the bathroom to dispose of it. As he returned to his seat, she stared at him and ran her fingers over her hair the moment that their eyes met.

Good food and a pleasant conversation filled the time between their main course and dessert. Jo leaned forward, picked up a strawberry, and turned it in her hand. "Strawberries?" She smiled. "Some might say that you are trying to seduce me."

He hastily swallowed his wine and nearly choked on it. "I had thought that they would go well with everything else."

He scanned her face. _Dilated pupils, more rapid breathing and heartrate than usual, flared nostrils, a slight blush on her cheeks, maintained eye contact. Coupled with her behavior since I have re-entered the room, her reactions to my more romantic observations and comments, and her decision to stop wearing her wedding ring around her neck after I had told her that she didn't make things uncomfortable for me…_ Was it possible…?

His mouth slightly opened in amazement. She was in love with him.

And she had been hitting on him since she had woken up from her nap.

She pouted as she bit into the berry.

He leaned forward, caught her eye, and smirked. "I would never use strawberries to seduce a woman."

She grinned. "How would you do it?"

"It depends on the woman." Every time that he had explicitly demonstrated his romantic interest in a woman, he had used something different. With Jo, it seemed as though their faux tryst and their near kiss had prompted their coquetry.

"Let me guess. You're no Mr. Darcy."

He chuckled at the stark contrast between himself and one of Jo's favorite characters from Jane Austen's works. "I most certainly am not."

He looked at Jo's alluring smile. The more he gazed at it, the more he wanted to kiss her.

He felt her leg slide toward his. A moment later, her painful hiss snapped him out of his thoughts. He looked over his shoulder and noticed her straightening her previously crossed legs. His heart broke when he realized her pain was interrupting her pleasure.

He conversed with her as they partook of their dessert, yet his mind was elsewhere. To be honest, he had always felt a small sense of pleasure every time someone had suggested that he and Jo were a couple. Tonight, he wanted to make it a reality.

Soon, their meal was over, and he cleaned up their mess. After he disposed of their trash, he turned back to her. The moment that he saw her, he felt himself irresistibly drawn to her side. He surrendered himself to his impulse, and he wordlessly joined her on the bed again.

A loose strand of hair fell in front of her face. Henry reached over, took it into his hand, and gently pushed it back behind her ear. When he dared to gaze into her eyes, he saw that she was waiting breathlessly for his next move.

He suddenly felt overwhelmed by her beauty, his hand dropping off of her neck, and his feelings for her. He leaned forward, gently placed his lips on hers, and gave her a chaste, short kiss.

When he started to give her a second one, he stopped and rested his lips on hers. Perhaps he was misjudging the situation….

His eyes flew open in pleasant surprise the second that she returned his chaste kiss with a soft one of her own.

Her lips on his erased any lingering doubts about her feelings for him and encouraged him to deepen their kiss into a lovers' one. He poured every ounce of his love for her which he had felt since the moment that he had first seen her into his kiss. He became so focused on it that he barely felt her arms wrapping around his neck and his hands resting on her waist.

Soon, her kiss slowed to a stop, and she pulled away from him. "Maybe we should slow down before we have to explain to everyone _exactly_ what we were doing in Paris."

He nodded in agreement. As much as he was enjoying the moment, he should save that much intimacy for a later, and more appropriate, time. If not, within a few months, they might have to explain why Jo would need maternity leave.

He looked back up at her as she removed one arm from around him and laid her hand on his chest. His feelings for her began to overwhelm him again when he felt her fingering his scar.

"I would love to continue this when we return home."

 _What did she just say?_ "Are you sure that you want us to be a couple?" _Morgan, of course she does!_

She nodded.

He excitedly leaned forward to kiss her again.

She stiffened her arm. "On one condition."

He looked her in the eye. He wasn't sure what she wanted him to do or if he would be able to do it for her.

"You need to talk to Abe about this."

He studied her. This was a giant step forward for them. Really, for all three of them since Abe and Jo were bonding with each other. The eventual outcome of his and Jo's relationship would affect his son as well. What would Abe say about it?

A few moments later, Henry started to chuckle. "I don't have to."

She narrowed her eyes in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"Do you remember when you used our bathroom before our departure?"

She nodded at the memory.

"He had noticed that I wasn't pleased with the idea of coming here for a case. Naturally, I wanted us to have some time in the city to ourselves. I had planned to talk to Lt. Reece and Dr. Lippmann about giving us a couple of extra days off so that you and I could get lost like we had talked about. When Lt. Reece said—."

She pressed a finger onto his lips and smiled. "You're lecturing."

As the gesture sent a surprising rush of pleasure through him, he immediately and blissfully forgot what he was saying.

She returned her hand to his chest. "Anyway?"

 _Where was I? Ah, yes_. "Abe asked me why I wasn't excited about our trip. I mentioned the circumstances that led to our desire to come here together. He apologized for his timing about his news concerning Abigail and for not recognizing our feelings for each other that night. He then suggested that we should come back shortly after the case is closed so that we could have our trip." His son's idea was still a very tempting one, but, with Jo's injuries, it would have to wait.

Jo opened and closed her mouth several times. "He what?"

She looked lovingly into Henry's eyes. "That was the only time that I found myself kind of hating an old man, and I'm not talking about you."

Henry smiled at the memory of Abe's interruption. "He had a horrible habit of interrupting Abigail and me from the moment that we had adopted him until the day he realized what he had been doing." He bit his lower lip for a second. "He should be the first to know about the change in our relationship. Let's tell him when he picks us up at the airport."

"He's going to be surprised when he sees us together."

She then sighed. "I'm going to miss this. With the exception of watching you die, I've really enjoyed myself today."

Henry leaned toward Jo. "We will return one day. I promise."

"You have to teach me some French before we come back. I want to be able to understand everyone, including you."

He was happy to start her lessons right now. " _Je t'aime_." He finished his lean and chastely kissed her again.

After he slightly parted from her, she whispered, "What does that mean?"

He lowered his voice. "I love you."

He gazed into her wide eyes and observed her acceptance of what he had just said.

"I love you too." With that, she closed the minute space between them and kissed him again. When she stopped, she whispered, " _Je t'aime_." Her pronunciation wasn't perfect, but it demonstrated her own keen ear for languages.

He didn't care that her response wasn't proper French. He would teach her how to say "I love you too" later. Right now…

They exchanged another lovers' kiss before reluctantly parting. As he straightened himself, Henry took Jo's hand into his and quietly basked in the glow of their new relationship.

Jo's groan as she tried to make herself a little more comfortable on the bed broke their silence.

She looked back at him. "How do you want to do this? I've never been in a relationship with a 200-year-old man before."

He bit his lower lip. Admittedly, he hadn't given that much thought to her question. This was the first time in decades in which he and the woman whom he loved were equally interested in their relationship.

He studied his and Jo's joined hands. He wanted a method of courtship that would be perfect for her. She was a very modern woman who appreciated the way of life from both her own era and bygone ones. Perhaps….

The start of her voice broke through his thoughts. "I wouldn't mind an old-fashioned courtship. You know, like the ones you had when you were younger."

He opened his mouth in surprise and smiled once he recovered from it. "I was considering blending the traditional and the modern."

She tilted her head in curiosity.

"We can go out to dinner and various social events, have dinner at each other's homes, kiss each other, and display some physical forms of affection. But…"

Getting the idea, she nodded. "Nothing else until the time is right. What about chaperones?"

He was surprised at the extent of her interest in Jane Austen's stories. "I think that Abe, Lucas, Hanson, and Lt. Reece will serve as informal chaperones." He remembered Lucas', Hanson's, and, later, Abe's "encouragement" when they had learned about the trip. "They might be unhelpful at times, but they have our best interests at heart."

She happily sighed as she leaned forward. "I can live with that. They've already doing it. I still need to tell my mother that I'm seeing someone, so she would be watching us as well."

He nodded in agreement. Honestly, the thought of Mrs. Martinez's future involvement in their relationship made it feel almost as though he was back in the Georgian and Victorian eras again.

She looked around the room. "This might be a little awkward. You and me in the same room…."

They both had shared a bed with others before—and with each other for a few minutes once—but she was considering their agreed sleeping arrangements for the duration of the trip. "I can make a curtain to draw between us if you prefer."

She tugged her hand away from his. "You won't do any such thing." A moment later, she hurled a pillow at him.

The soft object hit him as she giggled. He picked up the pillow, and his smile grew into a grin. She was giving him the privilege of seeing a side of her that no one else, other than Sean, had ever seen.

He handed her the cushion and joined her at the headboard so that she would be more comfortable. "A curtain isn't that bad. I've had far worse experiences sharing a room with a woman."

She took his hand and wove her fingers between his. "Such as?"

Ordinarily, one incident would be a story for another time, but he could indulge her now. "Try being on the same bed with your loved one. You are tied up in a sack, and there's a wooden board separating the two of you. To make matters worse, you must remain that way until morning."

She widened her eyes in surprise. "How…?"

He wrapped his free hand around her waist. "Trust me. It was uncomfortable and quite the way to discourage even a chaste kiss goodnight. I was…."

* * *

Jo's questions and comments began to slow. He glanced over at her and noticed her stifling a yawn. He reached for his watch and opened it. He inhaled when he saw the time; he didn't realize how long they had been talking. He sighed as he placed the watch on the end table. If they wanted to be well-rested for tomorrow, he needed to stop his stories now.

He reluctantly unwrapped his arm from around her. He was enjoying their time together, and he hated the idea that it had come to an end for the night.

"You're stopping?"

He inhaled. "Unfortunately, yes. It's getting late."

He gazed at her, and his love for her overpowered him yet again. He leaned over and kissed her good night.

"You can finish your story in the morning." She gave him one last kiss before easing herself down on the bed. "I love you."

"I love you too."

As she pulled the covers over herself, he gently brushed her hair off her face. "Good night."

"'Night." Her voice was becoming a whisper.

He eased off the bed and carefully moved his bedding to the floor. He then removed the ice pack from her feet, took it to the bathroom, and emptied the water into the bathtub. While he watched the water drain from the bag, he smiled. Based on what he had seen the last time that she had gone to the bathroom, it appeared that the cold packs were doing an excellent job in alleviating her foot pain.

He headed back to his "bed" and prepared it for the night. As he sat down on the floor, he looked back up at her. A part of his mind suddenly told him that they were indulging in a fantasy. One or both of them would wake up from their dream in the morning, and everything would return to the way it was before today.

He took a deep breath before settling down for the night. He hoped that it wasn't the case. He was in love with her, and he wasn't sure what he would do if the grim idea proved to be true.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Henry's story refers to the practice of bundling. It had originated in the Netherlands, and people in the United States and the UK had practiced it in the 1700s and 1800s. Supposedly, it was a way to allow courting couples to share a bed without anything that would make this an M-rated story.

As for the law, I discovered it while I was reading an article about Paris. In 2016, the French parliament passed a law saying that stores in tourist areas can conduct business all day on Sundays and until midnight the rest of the week. Opponents of the law feel that it is a way to make working on Sundays the norm across France. (My French readers, please correct me if I'm wrong. I'll be glad to make a correction in my author's note for the next chapter.)


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note** : This is the last chapter of the story. I hope that you will enjoy it.

* * *

 **Chapter 3**

The early morning sunlight gently drew Jo out of her pleasant vivid dream about her and Henry's first date in New York. As the scene faded, she willed it to come back. Yet, no matter how hard she tried, it refused to continue.

Resigned to the idea of the dream's end, she reluctantly opened her eyes and took a moment to regain her bearings. She bent one knee, and she softly hissed in pain. Then, she wiggled her toes and flexed her feet. To her surprise and delight, they didn't hurt her at all. She inhaled and softly laughed. Even if he hadn't practiced medicine in decades, Henry still had a healing touch.

She laid in bed and smiled while the memories of yesterday's events flooded back. Yesterday was _amazing_. Sure, they had spent half of the day in their hotel room, and Henry had to leave her side so he could tend to her feet and check the bandages on her knees. Yet, his stories, their meals, their time together, and, most importantly, their love for each other made yesterday one of the best days ever.

She bit her lip to keep her giggles from interrupting Henry in case he was sleeping. She hadn't realize that she had fallen in love with him until the first time that he had left the room to get ice for the makeshift ice packs. It was the only thing that explained every thought and emotion that she had felt after she had found him in his hiding place. It also explained how her view of Henry had changed over the past two years, why she wanted to be with him every chance that she got, and why she was willing to do anything for him. Once she had admitted that she loved him, it was easy to give into her feelings for him.

And their first kiss… She happily allowed herself to remember every detail of it before she could think of anything else.

A short, soft laugh soon escaped from her lips. He had gently teased her about her flirtatious behavior last night. Frankly, she hadn't noticed what she was doing to him; the only thing that she was aware of was checking him out. The smile on his lips, however, told her that he was enjoying it. She turned to him and started to list all of the ways that he had flirted with her: his lopsided smiles, the brushes of his hand against hers when they had reached for their food, reaching up to rub his stubble, the strawberries. He reacted in mock offense and began to state his case as to why they were "normal" actions. She let him "rant" for a moment before she kissed him to shut him up. As he deepened their kiss, all she could think about was that she was happy that she had given her whole heart to him.

The present silence of the room became uncanny. Jo looked around to see where Henry was, but she couldn't find him. He must have left to buy his morning newspaper. As she started to relax, she suddenly heard the ticking of his pocket watch. She sat up and looked at the end table. His watch laid next to her cell phone, exactly where he had left it last night.

 _Maybe he's asleep_. She moved around until she was laying on her stomach across the bed. She lifted her legs into the air to decrease the pain in her knees. She crossed her arms and peered over the edge of the bed. To her surprise, Henry was still lying on the floor.

Jo breathlessly regarded him. Two years ago, if someone were to have told her that she would fall in love with a smart, handsome British medical examiner who cared deeply about people and who had checked off a lot of items on most people's bucket lists—including cheating death—she would have laughed at them. Somehow, though, she had, and, honestly, she couldn't be happier.

She looked at his face and noticed that he was lost in thought. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. _Henry Morgan, you had better not be rethinking our relationship and considering fleeing New York when we get back. If so, I'll track you down, and I'm going to become the second woman to tell you that I'm not letting you go that easily. I will personally follow you to the four corners of the earth if necessary._

She opened her eyes and gazed at him. Within a moment, all of her worries about him vanished, and a desire to start her day with him at her side replaced them.

"Hey." She almost didn't recognize her own voice. It contained a mix of happiness and playfulness that she hadn't heard since the last week of Sean's life.

Henry sat up at the sound of her voice. A moment later, he rose onto his knees. Their eyes met, and Jo found herself breathless when she observed the short distance between them.

"Yesterday wasn't our imaginations, was it?" His eyes searched hers for his answer.

Her heart broke at his question. She wasn't sure what had prompted it: the number of heartbreaks that he had experienced over the course of two centuries or the number of men that she had been with since Sean's death. Then again, maybe it was both. It was almost as if Henry was afraid that she had just added him to her list of broken hearts.

Jo gave him a reassuring smile. The last time that she was this certain about being in a relationship, she had just started to date Sean. _And I_ …

She stopped herself. As nice as it sounded, it was a bit early to start thinking about being married to Henry. They had just barely become boyfriend and girlfriend. Maybe one day…

He was still waiting for her answer. "No, it wasn't."

He immediately leaned forward and began to kiss her. Her position made her uncomfortable, and she started to turn over so she could sit on the bed. He broke from the kiss to allow her to readjust her position.

When she finished, she impulsively reached up and stroked his stubble. She inhaled in amazement. She had felt it once before, but she had been so busy examining the slight cut on his neck that she hadn't paid attention to it. Under her fingertips, his facial hair was much softer than she had imagined.

She looked at him. He remained motionless, and the gesture appeared to be arousing his desire to kiss her again.

She slid her hand behind his neck and drew him closer to her before kissing him again. A moment later, her other hand moved around his neck, and she felt his hands on her waist. As he deepened the kiss, she instantly forgot about everything but him.

Suddenly, a thud filled the air. They stopped and looked in the direction of the sound. To her stunned disbelief, it was the room's phone— _again_. This time, Henry had somehow pushed it aside while they were kissing. In the process, he had accidently knocked his pocket watch off the desk.

They gazed into each other's eyes and laughed. She had wanted their trip to Paris last year, and she had wanted their kiss yesterday afternoon. Yet, she was now glad that both interruptions had happened. Some things were worth the wait.

* * *

Henry watched as the lights emanating from New York passed Jo's window. As enjoyable as their last night in Paris was, it felt good to be back.

This return felt different. This time, everything seemed right with the world once more. Their suspect, an American senior compliance officer who had posed as a French national to take advantage of provisions in the two countries' extradition treaty, had been arrested without a single shot fired. He denied killing the Louvre staff member and her American boyfriend, but their suspect's mannerisms, the forensic evidence, and the witnesses' statements proved otherwise. According to Yvette, he would be extradited to the United States to face murder charges and federal fugitive charges within a month. Furthermore, no one from the accident near the museum had reported seeing Henry or Jo at the scene. It was almost as though they had been shielded from the crowd that she had seen.

Henry lovingly looked at Jo as she slept on his shoulder. She was the other reason everything was perfect.

With his free hand, he reached over and caressed the hand that rested over his scar. "Jo?"

She stirred awake and rubbed her eyes. "Yeah?"

"We're back." He pointed toward the window so that she could see the city at night.

She inhaled in amazement as they passed over Lower Manhattan again. She turned to him and laughed. "I think I can see the shop and the precinct from here."

He gazed at her bright eyes and her smile. For as long as they were together, he would do anything to keep her this happy.

She looked out the window again, this time to see if she could find her house and watch their landing. He observed the traffic, pulled out his pocket watch, and noted the time. Hopefully, Abe would decide to leave the shop a few minutes earlier than he had planned. From the looks of things, the heavy traffic might force them to wait for his arrival.

A few minutes later, the plane taxied down the runway and pulled up to the gate. Once it was safe to unbuckle their seat belts, Henry pulled Jo's carry-on bag out from under the seat in front of him and slung the handle over his shoulder.

He glanced over at her and noticed her standing. He pulled his legs as close to the seat as he could to let her pass after their seatmate left.

She gazed into his eyes and smiled. "Mr. Darcy, you shouldn't have."

As she waited, she alternated between amatively regarding him and keeping a watchful eye on the other passenger. Admittedly, she was making it very difficult for him to think. Every time that she looked at him, all Henry could do was to get lost in her eyes.

She finally eased by him. He fished his suitcase out from its spot and moved it into his hand. He placed his free hand on the small of Jo's back and followed her into the aisle.

Once inside the jetway, Henry stepped beside her and wrapped his arm around her. He smiled as she slid her arm around his waist and stepped closer to him.

"Are you sure that you don't want me to carry anything?" Jo gave him a lightly concerned look.

He slightly moved his other shoulder to keep her bag on it and tightened a loosening grip on his suitcase handle. He didn't realize how heavy their carry-ons would be. The addition of her checked duffle bag would make the load heavier. When he returned to the shop, he would be applying ice to his shoulder to ensure that the pain won't develop.

No matter how much pain he would be in, though, it was his honor and pleasure to carry her bags for her. "I'm certain."

"Next time, I'm not packing as many clothes. It turns out I didn't need all of them." She paused. "Maybe I should buy some sneakers just in case I go hiking again."

He smiled at her euphemism. It was a fitting term for her run to the river.

He let her words of "next time" echo in his head. Their return to Paris would have to wait until after her knees had fully healed. He would hate for her to spend part of another trip in pain. As for her feet…

"Perhaps I should ask Abe if he knows how to give a foot massage."

"Hmm…?"

Jo's voice drew his attention. She gave him a smile and the look that had once urged him to overcome his reluctance and to share his thoughts with her.

Perhaps he shouldn't mention his plan. The gesture would be a lovely surprise for her. "I was just thinking."

He pulled her closer to him just as they entered the terminal. A few minutes later, they arrived at the checked bags area. The second that they arrived at the carousel where her bag was supposed to come into the room, Henry placed the suitcase down on the ground and set her carry-on bag next to it. He rotated and moved his shoulder so he could get some relief.

He looked down at the ground. She sat down on his suitcase and gingerly crossed her legs to keep people from tripping over her feet. He stifled his growing chuckle. Both Abigail and Abe had done the same thing during their moves.

He lovingly gazed at Jo. He still couldn't believe that he had found a good woman— _twice_ —over the course of his life.

Jo looked up at him. "You're going to have to show me around London one day." She quickly sobered. "All of the good places."

He gaped at her. None of the other women whom he had been with—not even Abigail—had shown an interest in seeing the places associated with his early life's events. Yet, Jo's glimpse of London during their layover had sparked a desire to know everything about that part of him.

He smiled at her. "We will. After Paris."

He quickly checked for her duffle bag, but it still hadn't arrived. "I've been meaning to ask, but why did you pack so many clothes this time? Last year, you had everything in only a small suitcase." _One which was barely larger than a purse_.

"I've had more time to think about what to take with me."

He nodded and gazed back at her. As much as she was a free spirit, she liked the slightest bit of planning.

He suddenly felt a pair of eyes on them. Hoping that they didn't belong to Adam, Henry turned around. To his relief, a total stranger was looking at them.

"Congratulations! When was the big day?"

 _Big day?_

He and Jo replied in near unison, "We're not married."

He looked at the other woman. "We've just started dating."

"My mistake. Congratulations, anyway." A moment later, she stepped up to the carousel and plucked her bag from the conveyor belt.

Henry gulped as he looked back at Jo. How were they going to keep their courtship a secret from everyone but their families for a month like they had agreed? He didn't want anyone to inadvertently sabotage it while they found a balance between their work and their personal lives. At the same time, they still hadn't gone on their first date, and he wanted her to enjoy the memory of it the next day without answering everyone's questions about it.

A minute later, he spied Jo's bag moving down the conveyor belt. He caught it just before it rolled past him. He slung both bags' handles over his shoulder, picked up his suitcase, and took Jo into his other arm.

They joyfully walked to the wait area. Once inside, Henry surveyed the crowded room and spotted his son in a chair near the doors. Abe looked up, and his eyes met his father's. The younger man's eyes widened, and his mouth dropped open at the sight before him.

As the couple joined him, he quickly sobered and uncrossed his arms. "What took you so long? I was starting to think that they were going to tow me soon." He paused. "Well, either that, or tell me to go to the parking lot. With the number of people here tonight, I doubt that I could have found a spot. I'll be glad when they finally build the new garage they're talking about."

Jo chuckled. "You've been waiting for us for that long?"

Henry apologetically smiled at the younger Morgan. "Our flight from Heathrow was a little delayed, and it took us a bit longer to go through immigration and customs in Toronto than we had expected. For a while, we thought that we wouldn't make it in until tomorrow morning." _Not that we wouldn't have minded it_ …

Abe escorted them to his car's location in the pick-up area. The moment that they stepped outside, a slight spring wind blowing from the East River cooled Henry's skin. He chuckled. Every time he had used LaGuardia, he had forgotten how much its humidity reminded him of Ellis Island.

Abe opened the trunk and took Henry's suitcase from him. Henry watched as Jo opened the back door and slid into the middle of the back seat. She was making it clear that she wanted to spend more time with him. He couldn't blame her; he couldn't stand the thought of one of them riding in the front seat with Abe tonight.

"Pops?" Abe's whispered use of the familiar name snapped Henry's attention onto his son and their task.

Abe placed one hand on his hip and held the trunk with the other. He nodded toward Jo. "Is this the news that you've mentioned when you called this morning?"

Henry happily nodded as he placed Jo's bags into the trunk. "Jo and I have begun courting." He glanced over at the younger Morgan. "Her choice of words, not mine."

Abe closed the trunk and studied the immortal. He then slapped a hand on Henry's shoulder. "I'm happy for you two. It's about time." He chuckled. "Even if I did inadvertently delay it by about a year."

Henry smiled. He was grateful for his son's interruption. If he and Jo had gone to Paris without her knowledge of the full truth about him, he would have worried about hiding his condition and about her reaction to it throughout the entire trip. Their wait had allowed them to lay a better foundation for their relationship so that their love could grow.

As Abe made his way to the driver's seat, Henry opened the back door and slid in next to Jo. After securing his seatbelt, he wrapped the arm closest to her around her waist. She took his free hand and wove her fingers between his as she leaned against him.

He looked at her as a pleasurable languor came over him. Maybe she should spend the night at the shop. It was late, and he didn't want her to drive back to Washington Heights while exhausted. After that, the time that they spent apart each day because of their separate lives would be painful, but it would enable their love to grow even stronger. Perhaps, one day, they would no longer be content with the arrangement, and they would decide that they should live life together as husband and wife.

He momentarily startled. This wasn't like him. It had been a long while—two centuries, in fact—since he had thought about marriage without a reminder of the temporary nature of his loved one's life. And it had been six decades since he had been willing to seriously consider the idea. Perhaps…

As the idea persisted, he relaxed and pulled her closer to him. If the past couple of days were a preview of things to come, then being married to her sounded quite nice.

He couldn't give it much thought tonight, though. If they were meant to be married, it would happen in due time. Right now, he should enjoy his and Jo's courtship as it progressed.

Abe glanced back in the rearview mirror before backing out of their spot. "What happened? When I dropped you off, you were just friends who couldn't admit their feelings for each other _to_ each other."

Jo chuckled. "It's a bit of a long story."

Abe stared at them. "Well, you better start telling it. Based on the traffic that I've seen while I was waiting for you, we're going to be stuck in it for a while."

Henry and Jo looked at each other and silently debated who should start the story. Eventually, he gave in to her nonverbal suggestion.

He happily leaned back as the memories of their trip began to stream. "It all started when…"

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Henry and Jo manage to hide their relationship from Lt. Reece, Mike, and Lucas for a total of three days. How everyone else finds out about it prematurely is another story. As for Henry's comment about the foot massage, Jo did _**not**_ hear it (hence her "Hmm…?"), and her reaction to a foot massage is yet another story.

In case you're wondering why Henry and Jo go through immigration and customs in Toronto instead of New York, it's a matter of law. Since the 1950s, the Port Authority of New York and New Jersey has banned LaGuardia from generally having flights longer than 1,500 miles (2,400 kilometers). (Exceptions are made for Saturday flights and flights to Denver). The ban was originally created to encourage passengers to use JFK instead, but it didn't work. As a result, LaGuardia does not have direct international flights, nor does it have immigration and customs officials. To get around the ban, airlines route every international flight in and out of LaGuardia through Toronto or Montreal, which do have both types of agents. (A fun note: Due to Henry's [fake] Social Security number and his employment with the OCME, he claimed US citizenship during this trip out of the country.)


End file.
